 |
Michael Fassbender excels in Danny Boyle's superb Sorkin scripted biopic Steve Jobs |
It also helps that Steve Jobs has an electric script
from Aaron Sorkin. Sorkin approached the project not like a film, but as a
classic three-Act play. Steve Jobs is an explosion where all the special
effects are the words, held together by pulsating ideas and a sense of rhythm musicians
would envy. This is Sorkin at his absolute best, a script with zip and jokes
but also a profound understanding of exactly the sort of tunnel-visioned
visionary perfectionism Jobs encapsulated, all wrapped up with a beautifully
judged emotional through-line. Only Sorkin can make just actors delivering
dialogue as dynamic and edge-of-the-seat as a car chase.
And (like The Social Network) his intensely
intellectual style, and sense for the frustration of the super-intelligent at
the rest of us for not keeping up, is perfect for this tale of the creation of the
future of computing. Sorkin uses product launches as a window into how fresh
idea can be accepted (or not) by the world. The battles over them, with the
focus on small details that communicate the big picture and the difficulties of
making others understand the visionary core that makes something work is
crucial – and brilliantly delivered here. That’s perfect for Sorkin, who is
gifted at making big-picture passionate thinkers sound as brilliant as they
are.
But what makes Steve Jobs perhaps his most compelling
script, is that he adds an emotional undertone to it. Jobs was a visionary, who
understood better than the customer what they really wanted. But he was also a
flawed individual. Sorkin’s script makes clear that, like his computers, he was
a closed system. Just as the Macs were designed to only work with their own
software and not interface with others (Jobs’ gospel, the exclusivity of the
product being what makes it special), so Jobs himself built his own conception
of the world and refused to let anything outside that influence it, or allow any
external factors to change his mind. Decide he was loyal to someone, and
nothing they do will shakes that. Decide another has betrayed him, and the
system locks them out.
Central to this is Jobs’ relationship with his unacknowledged daughter. From the 5-year-old he reluctantly spends time with, to the young girl he starts to form a carefully emotionally managed bond with to the 19-year old who finally tells him how much she resents his closed-system management of their relationship. Sorkin’s script brilliantly balances an insight into why Jobs might have acted like this (bound up in issues with his birth parents) and the emotional impact it has on the daughter (the hugs not returned, the words not said). Jobs isn’t a bad man - although the script doesn't shy away from his selfishness, or the appalling things he said about Lisa's mother in the press - or a straight-forward terrible dad. He’s just not quite capable (or willing) of giving the emotional commitment needs. It’s written tenderly with a great deal of empathy for both father and daughter.
This emotion is further bought out by Boyle’s dynamic
humanism at the helm. It’s a reminder of what a great theatre director Boyle is:
this film is basically one of the most dynamic plays you’ll ever see, fast cuts
and graphics intermixed with extended one-shot dialogue scenes that allow his
actors to flourish. Boyle employs on-screen graphics and montage to move us
between the product launches, but isn’t afraid to let his camera serve the
dialogue, with the exchanges brilliantly cut to the rhythm of the dialogue.
He also sets out a space for the actors to deliver uniformly
superb performances. Front and centre is Michael Fassbender’s transformational performance.
He communicates Jobs’ brilliance and his ruthless determination to never compromise.
It’s a performance of messianic intensity, but also extremely grounded and real
– and, like Sorkin, he understands the heart of the film is the father-daughter
relationship. Fassbender carefully hides Jobs’ emotional need, just as he understands
the dynamism that wouldn’t allow a hint of vulnerability and arrogance that
judges everyone as second-best to himself. He’s a tough, difficult,
uncompromising man – but also an egalitarian one, (eventually) willing to acknowledge
his flaws, the biggest being his fear of emotion.
Equally brilliant is Kate Winslet as Joanna Hoffman, Jobs’
long-time confidante and ‘work-wife’, manager of each of the launches and a
combination of mentor, conscience, counsellor and parent. Jeff Daniels is excellent
as the businessman who goes from mentor to unforgiven rival. Seth Rogan gives
his finest dramatic performance as Steve Wozniak, here a decent man and
computing genius, who lacked Jobs’ ability to “play the orchestra” and shape
events to his will.
It’s all wrapped up in a gripping film that feels like a
fusion of theatre and film. If it has a problem, it’s that many will find its
focus on the nuts-and-bolts of Apple hard to follow (and I confess, the script
makes me understand the drama without understanding the product). But its
strength is in understanding visionaries, their ability to shape ideas that
wouldn’t occur to the rest of us – and the selfishness, and the damage that
causes, that often goes hand-in-hand with that. With scintillating acting,
skilful direction and, above all, a superb script, Steve Jobs is sharp and
engrossing drama.
No comments:
Post a Comment